


And The Waves Crash and Roar

by Wolferfly



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BPD, BPD Yuri Plisetsky, Biting, Borderline Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder Yuri Plisetsky, Crying, Emotional Roller Coaster, Gen, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, One Shot, Perceived Failure, Personality Disorder, Self-Harm, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolferfly/pseuds/Wolferfly
Summary: Yuri failed. He only got silver at Skate Canada. What a pathetic loser. Victor is never going to want to coach him now. Short one-shot of Yuri's breakdown due to his perceived failure at Skate Canada.------He was shaking as he stood there on the podium. Silver. He got fucking silver. He was a failure. He couldn’t even force a smile as the camera focused on him. Typical Yuri, always scowling, right? It was hard enough for him to not start screaming at himself right there on the podium; in front of everyone. This was a complete blowout. Victor was never going to coach him at this rate with only silver medals to his name. When was the last time Victor got a silver medal? There was no way Yuri was going to be able to compete with the other Yuuri at this rate. Fucking great.When they were finally allowed to leave, he shoved passed Yakov, fighting to remove his skates. He couldn’t even take his own skates off, he was pathetic! His hands were shaking so hard, trying to contain his rage. There was sweat pouring down his face and he was ripping the skin off his lip and tasting blood. Yakov and Lilia would surely get on his case about that. He needed to be perfect. A perfect little angel on the ice. What a joke.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Yuri gets Silver at Skate Canada.

He was shaking as he stood there on the podium. Silver. He got fucking silver. He was a failure. He couldn’t even force a smile as the camera focused on him. Typical Yuri, always scowling, right? It was hard enough for him to not start screaming at himself right there on the podium; in front of everyone. This was a complete blowout. Victor was never going to coach him at this rate with only silver medals to his name. When was the last time Victor got a silver medal? There was no way Yuri was going to be able to compete with the other Yuuri at this rate. Fucking great.

When they were finally allowed to leave, he shoved passed Yakov, fighting to remove his skates. He couldn’t even take his own skates off, he was pathetic! His hands were shaking so hard, trying to contain his rage. There was sweat pouring down his face and he was ripping the skin off his lip and tasting blood. Yakov and Lilia would surely get on his case about that. He needed to be perfect. A perfect little angel on the ice. What a joke. When the skates finally came off, he threw them against the side of the rink hard enough for it to echo. He didn’t care who saw. Let them remember him like this, Yuri didn’t fucking care. He was a moody child anyway, fuck it. As he saw Yakov approaching, he quickly shoved his feet into his shoes and stormed off. Fuck all of this.

“Yuri!” Coach Yakov called to Yuri as he made his way from the arena. He even tried to stop him, grabbing onto his shoulder. Why would he fucking touch him? How dare the old man touch him. He didn’t want to be touched, especially not right now. A shudder ran through his body as Yakov spoke. “Yuri. Stop.” Was his coach pleading with him? Yuri didn’t know who was more pathetic in this moment, Yakov or himself. Yuri spun on his heels and attempted to shove Yakov away. He didn’t need this right now. He could feel the tears beginning to well up in his eyes as the anger ripped through his body. It was like a fire, a white consuming fire. 

“GO AWAY!” He screamed, pushing Yakov repeatedly. “YOU’RE USELESS! GO AWAY!” Yakov stopped and let go of him, confusion across his face. He was trying to keep the hurt hidden, but he despite his normally stoic face, he wasn’t doing a very good job. Yuri could feel the crowds of people turning to stare at the commotion. He didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care. “You’re not fucking Victor! You’re not fucking good enough! You’ll never be good enough!” He screamed, not caring who oversaw or who heard. He wanted the words to hurt, he wanted to words to sting. It meant that he’d leave Yuri alone. It would be better that way. Better if Yakov just quit right there. Everything would be easier.

He needed to find somewhere private. Somewhere where no one would see him cry. A bathroom. He needed to find a bathroom. Yakov couldn’t see him cry, no one could see him cry. He needed to be alone, away from everything. Luckily Yuri remembered the rink had a single stall family bathroom. He shoved people out of his way as he made his way over, not caring who he was pushing. The tears were threatening to spill down his face. No one could see him cry, no one. 

Not even checking to see if the bathroom was occupied, he shoved the door open with his shoulder, hard. The pain shot through his body and he knew he’d have a bruise there in the morning. He deserved the pain. The bruise would be one more mark of his failure. He crumpled onto the floor with his face in his hands, the tears already escaping from his eyes. They ran hot down his face as his body was racked with heaving sobs. The floor was cold enough to be felt through his uniform. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his skating attire. What a fool. He stormed through the entire place in this embarrassing ensemble. Now it was going to get dirty on this bathroom floor and he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Yakov and Lilia.

Stupid. Fucking. Failure. He couldn’t even get gold. Silver. Measly silver. Not good enough. Never good enough. He was going to let everyone down. He was going to let Victor down. He was going to let his grandfather down. He wasn’t worth this. He should just retire before he made a complete and total fool of himself. Before he brought shame to the only person who had cared for his pathetic and worthless ass. Forget retiring. Disappear, he should just disappear. Go away forever. Everyone would forget about him soon enough. It was his Senior debut and if he failed it now, it wouldn’t matter. Gone and forgotten before the next season even started. Worthless. Worthless. Completely worthless.

He clawed at his face, biting his hand. Pain. He needed the pain. He deserved the pain. It was all he deserved. It was all he was going to get. Pushing his body to the limit during practice only did so much. Chewing on his hand was his relief, chewing and biting until his hand was torn and bleeding. The feeling of his teeth puncturing his own skin was a comfort along with the pain that shot through his hand as he did it. Waves of temporary relief from the emotions that were crashing through his brain and body. Emotions with no control and no end in sight. Rough tide in a storm.

Choking on his own sobs, his body heaved and trembled. Couldn’t even cry right. How fucking sad. His whole body was trembling with the force of his sobs, while making childish whimpering noises. He was disgusting. He deserved that silver medal, look at him. On the floor of a dirty bathroom, sobbing and biting his hand until he could taste the blood. His blood mixed with his snot and his tears. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

He wiped his face on his jacket sleeve, which was already soaked. As he pulled his knees to his chest, Yuri took a deep breath before burying his face between his knees. Silver. If he wanted to make it to the Grand Prix, if he wanted to show Yuuri he was better than him, and if he wanted to prove Victor he should have coached him, he needed to do better. He absolutely needed to do better. Yuri sniffled and closed his eyes tightly. Do better. Hah. That was funny. How could he even do better if he couldn’t even land that stupid jump? He was an ice skater and he couldn’t even land that simple jump. That’s all that fucking matters in this world and yet he, the Ice Tiger of Russia, Yuri Plisetsky, couldn’t fucking do it. Also, Ice Tiger? He was barely a kitten. Just as pathetic and sad to look at too.

That fucking jump. It cost him the gold. It had been giving him trouble since before Skate Canada. He knew it would come back and bite him in the ass. He knew it. Yakov wouldn’t listen to him. Of course he wouldn’t listen, he was a miserable little kid that no one gave a shit about. Despite pushing himself for hours on end, forcing his body to deal with the strain and the pain, despite putting everything into it, he failed. A complete and total failure. If he continued to fail, no one would remember him. His career would be over before it really even started. Probably for the best if his career ended early. No one would remember him and Victor wouldn’t have to think poorly of him. Definitely for the best then.

He’d never be as good as Victor. Why should he try? Yuri felt the tears welling back up in his eyes, despite his best efforts to not start crying again. He started shaking once more, that familiar sense of rage mingling with complete and total despair. It was like being stuck out in the ocean, the waves dunking you under and only giving you a moment of air before the next one came and you started drowning again. Victor would see that he got a silver medal and would immediately write Yuri off. That’s why he forgot about writing the program for him. That’s why he had completely forgotten. He already knew he wasn’t worth it, that he was completely pitiful. Victor knew, how could he not take one look at him and know that he wasn’t worth a second of his time?

That is why he chose Yuuri. That was the obvious answer. Victor took one look at this little miserable waste of a teenager and knew. Victor knew which Yuri was better, despite the Japanese one being a failure the year before. Victor knew nothing would come from coaching Yuri Plisetsky. Yuri bit his lip, ripping the skin from it as the white hot lash of jealousy ripped through him. Yuuri Katsuki. That waste of pathetic skin was still better than him. That fucking Pork Cutlet was more deserving of Victor’s attention than he was. Disgusting. How pathetic did Yuri have to be for Victor to pick THAT Yuuri over him? 

It was definitely better if he disappeared. If he went away, everyone would move on with their lives. Maybe they’d be sad for a small bit of time, but they’d move on. They’d be better without him. It wasn’t worth the pain of failing again and again and again. Victor had already made up his mind so why should he stick around and try to change it? Victor had chosen Yuuri, not him. That was clear. That’s why he was struggling so hard, the program Victor had written was designed to make him fail. Victor knew Yuri wasn’t worth his time and set him up to fail. That was it. The blood was metallic, sharp, in his mouth as he chewed his cheek. Better to go away for sure if that was the case. Victor has set him up and was laughing at him. Victor chose the other Yuuri and he made it so that there was no doubt why. He was a waste of Victor’s time and there was no reason to compete now. 

Everything he had been competing for was a complete scam. He felt sorry for everything he had put his grandfather through and was going to put him through. The tears began to fall freely down his face. Pathetic idiot. He sniffled hard, coughing on his on phlegm. He did his best to not scream. Despite being in the privacy of the bathroom, it was not entirely secluded. He bit his hand again, screaming into his own flesh as he bit. Pain. Yuri needed the pain again. Pain was the only thing he deserved and he needed to punish himself for his failures. Not that Yuri was entirely clear that’s why he did it. All he knew was that the pain was something that came with a release. With the pain came a relief from this dark pit of emotions, this rollercoaster through every negative thought and feeling about himself.

He lost track of time. He had no idea how long he was in that bathroom, sitting on that filthy floor and fighting himself, his emotions, everything. Each break was a breath and each wave not as intense as the last. Soon he was simply sitting on the floor of a dirty family bathroom, the knees of his pants soaked with tears. His hands were bloody, red and swollen from his self-destructive chewing. The pain was throbbing and Yuri felt it with each thud of his heart. He’d need to figure out something better, more discreet now. There was no way he was going to be able to hide this from his grandfather, Yakov, Lilia, and all those people watching him perform. His grandfather always accepted the excuse that his hands got injured from falling at practice. He hated lying to his grandfather, but he didn’t want to let him know. How could he let his grandfather knew that he was a piece of shit who couldn’t control his own emotions?

Slowly standing on shaky legs, sore from sitting in the same position for so long, Yuri wiped his face again. He was exhausted, utterly drained. He was so tired, all his energy having been used to keep himself from drowning. That’s exactly what it was like, drowning. Complete with the struggling against the water. There was even the sometimes muffled cries of others that could barely be heard above the waves. He washed his face with cold water, trying to hide the fact he was crying. He never let anyone see him cry. It was pathetic and disgusting. There was no strength and success in crying. What a fucking mess. He shook his head, running a damp hand through his messy hair. The other shoulder met the door this time, shoving it open. However, this time it lacked the force the door was opened with when Yuri came in. The bright light caused him to squint. Fuck, now he had to go find Coach Yakov.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this! As someone with BPD this was really interesting to write what happens as someone with this disorder breaks down and the mental processes with it. I see a lot of myself in 15-year-old Yuri and how he is shown to react during the show to things. I put a lot into this fic and I really hope it shows.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
